


The End of the World as We Know It

by SnakesandTea



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Sad Aziraphale (Good Omens), Sad Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 14:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20968313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnakesandTea/pseuds/SnakesandTea
Summary: Prompted by the demon's distress, Crowley and Aziraphale talk about what the end of the world will mean and end up comforting each other. Very short. Angsty. Fluffy.





	The End of the World as We Know It

Crowley was restless, pacing the back room of Aziraphale’s shop. He didn’t want the world to end. He’d fallen madly in love with his way of life here, not to mention a certain angel. Fuck. It can’t end like this; all of these centuries of humans, growing, learning, screwing themselves over— they’d probably destroy the earth given a few more centuries, anyway. At least that would buy him more time to enjoy it. 

Aziraphale set his book down, unable to delight in the words with his demon so distressed. “Come sit, dear,” he said softly, patting the sofa beside him. 

Crowley shook his head and kept circling. There had to be some way to prevent it. Maybe… Maybe if he could finally bring himself to actually kill a human, he could slaughter the Anti-Christ – No; the thought put a nauseating feeling in his gut. He refused to harm a child. There were some things even a demon would not do.

“Darling, I know you’re upset about the end of the world.” He wanted to add that God knew what She was doing— however, even he was starting to think some blasphemous questions. “But there’s nothing more to do, Crowley. We’ve done all we can.” Aziraphale hated the words as they left his lips.

“We had a chance and bloody raised the wrong child!” He spat. “And it’s my fault,” he added softly. “We had a chance to save this and I—” Crowley shook his head.

Aziraphale put a comforting hand on the demon’s shoulder. He felt love for the Earth vibrating in every cell of Crowley’s being. “Dear boy, I know it’s hard.” It pained him to helplessly watch as tears formed in Crowley’s eyes.

He shrugged off his hand, blinking hard, and kept pacing. Anger blossomed in his chest. He allowed it to consume him, if only avoid crying. “You’re telling me you’re not upset? You’re not going to miss this?” He desperately needed the angel to understand – to grasp that everything he loved was doomed. “Your shop? These books you’ve collected over centuries?!” Crowley was practically panting, grasping for anything the angel loved. “You’re not going to miss tea and biscuits or—“ 

“Of course I’m upset,” he interjected sharply, making the demon pause in his tracks. “It physically pains me to know my collection will be destroyed. I’m truly devastated that the humans who greet me as I pass by each morning will never again indulge in earthly pleasures.” He couldn’t stop the tears sliding down his cheeks or the break in his voice as he said, “And I’m downright heartbroken that you’ll no longer be by my side.”

Crowley swallowed. Though he was no stranger to seeing the angel cry, the sight sent a dagger through his chest. He felt like a complete bastard—obviously Aziraphale was going to miss Earth. Clearly, he’d grown just as fond of life here. His anger melted away as quickly as it had come, leaving him with a rock in the pit of his stomach.

“So if you think for one morsel of a second that I’m not absolutely sick over this—" he choked on a sob, burying his face in his hands 

Crowley gently took Aziraphale’s arms, pulling them away from his red, tear-streaked face. “I’m sorry. I know you’ll miss it. I didn’t mean to insinuate—” He grabbed a tissue from a box on the end table. “Here.”

Aziraphale took it and dabbed at his nose and eyes. “Dear boy, we’ve had a good run.” He sniffled. “We must be content with what we’ve gotten; as the plans of the Almighty are, well,” Aziraphale paused to stifle a sad laugh, “ineffable.”

“So you’ve said,” the demon replied softly, sitting beside him. It took everything Crowley had to not roll his eyes—or tear up again. His angel was trying to comfort _him_ despite his own bleeding heartache. He was just so Good, dammit! Truth be told, it warmed his soul to hear the angel speak of this bullshit ineffable plan: maybe there really was nothing he could do about it. And in a way, the knowledge it couldn’t be avoided allowed him to relax—to breathe. He sighed and laid his head in Aziraphale’s lap.

“And that’s that, I suppose,” he said, barely above a whisper. Aziraphale ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair, lost in thought about the End Times. It was true, if Heaven won, they’d have no more composers of any quality, no wine… But if Hell won – he shuddered to think of the implications. Crowley wasn’t the norm; he was the exception to everything Down There.

“Angel?”

He held the demon tightly, reveling in the nickname. “Yes, dear?” 

“That means we should make the most of it.” He nuzzled deeper into Aziraphale’s lap, taking comfort in the known warmth.

“Mmhmm.” Aziraphale continued stroking Crowley’s short hair, basking in the waves of love radiating from his demon. Yes, he’d miss this most of all. 


End file.
